The Secretary's Bossman Bargain

As she stepped onto the amazingly busy Fintech nineteenth floor, Virginia hoped every employee would be in their usual flurries of movement and therefore too busy to notice she was fifteen minutes late.

But notice her they did.

The very moment her heels hit the carpet, a quiet spread throughout.

For the second day in a row, people glanced up from the copy machines. Behind their desks, heads lifted. The fact that everyone, everyone in the vast open space, knew and had probably discussed the fact that she had spent a week with Marcos in Monterrey became brutally evident. Deep inside, where all her fears were kept in a tight little bundle, she heard something.

They say she’s his lover…

Had someone spoken that? Was she putting words and thoughts into their mouths because of her own regrets?

Dragging in a calming breath, she crossed the sea of cubicles, then went down the art-packed hallway. At the far end, to the right of the massive carved doors that led to Marcos’s office, three identical rosewood desks stood. She slid in behind hers. The savvy Mrs. Fuller, who’d been with Marcos “longer than his mother has,” was quick to make her way around her own tidy work place and greet Virginia. “He’s very strange today,” the older woman said, wide-eyed. “He smiled at me and he said ‘thank you.’”

The words didn’t diminish the kernel of fear settled in the pit of Virginia’s stomach. If she so much as stepped out of her boundaries this week and onward…if she was fool enough to even remind him of Mexico…she dared not think of who would be sitting behind her desk next week.

“Then the deal must be going in his favor.” Virginia attempted a teasing smile as she turned to get settled.

Lindsay, a young redhead near Virginia’s age who’d also become her friend, drew up next to Mrs. Fuller. Their expressions were those of genuine excitement. “How was Mexico?” the older woman asked as Virginia sank into her chair and gazed at the top of her desk. A picture of her mother. A fake orchid. Her yellow markers sticking out of a silver can.

“Was it hot? I hear it’s sweltering this time of year,” Mrs. Fuller insisted. Virginia hadn’t seen the woman yesterday since they’d reached Fintech later than normal.

“Yes,” Virginia said, having no other answer to give a woman who was known through the entire building as levelheaded and kind.

As Mrs. Fuller’s concerned gray eyes bored into the top of Virginia’s head, she wished she could have been spared this encounter with even more fervor than she’d wished to avoid her last one with the dentist.

“He’s been gazing out the window all morning, and with so much to do, that is so unlike him,” Lindsay confessed under her cinnamon-scented breath. “And he asked me where you were.”

Virginia was spared having to reply when the phones began their usual music. Struck as though by lightning, both Lindsay and Mrs. Fuller were spurred to action. They jumped behind their desks and began tackling the calls.

Ignoring the telephone ringing equally obnoxiously on her desk, Virginia tucked the duffel into the nook under the computer. She would not, could not, think of his mood meaning anything. Their deal would be over soon, after the Fintech dinner, and they would forget Mexico. He had promised it would not affect her job.

Inspecting her drawers and taking out her personal notepad and the colored clips she’d bought in a burst of secretarial enthusiasm, Virginia felt her throat close at the sudden memory of her mother. That hopeful light always in her eyes. Her warm, caring smile. She had always had a saying to cheer Virginia up. Would she have one for Virginia today? One about there always being something better out there? Better than Marcos?

“Miss Hollis, I hear you were out with the boss?”

She started in surprise. Fredrick Mendez, one of the youngest accountants, had propped his hip onto the corner of her desk and was eyeing her with a combination of amusement and mock despair.

“For a week,” she stressed as she straightened in her chair.

“That’s too much, Miss Hollis. Too much time without you. So, did you bring me a key chain?”

“Did you ask for one?”

“All right, at least show us some pictures,” Fredrick insisted. But when Virginia’s usual friendly smile just would not come, he fell to his knees and clutched a hand to his chest. “Oh, Virginia, thy eyes shalt truth reveal—”

“Am I running a circus here, Mendez?”

The deep, clear voice, but most of all, the distinguished accent, struck Virginia like a cannon blast.

Her eyes flew to locate the source. Inches away, exiting the conference room and on his way to her, Marcos Allende was a sight to behold. Power and sophistication oozed from his every pore. His stride was slow and confident, his expression perfectly composed. And his every step kicked up her heartbeat. Six of his top lawyers followed.

Upon realizing who’d spoken, Fredrick’s pale complexion turned in the space of a second to a tomato-red. He jumped to his feet and smoothed a hand along his polka-dot tie. “No, sir. I was just welcoming Virginia back on our behalf.”

“Our?” He said the word as though Fredrick had no right to include himself in something he hadn’t been invited to.

Turning to where Virginia sat with perfect poise behind the desk, Marcos thrust his hands into his pockets and silently contemplated her. “Don’t you have work to do other than hound Miss Hollis,” he said softly, and there was no doubt whom he addressed.

Fredrick took off with a mumbled “Yes, sir.”